The Return
by keru.m
Summary: A different take on what happens when Mac comes back from the Guadalcanal.


Disclaimer: Not claiming ownership.

A/N: Different take on what happens when Mac returns from the Guadalcanal.

..

**The Return**

She hadn't come to see him. She'd been back for three days, and she hadn't come to him. Not that he should be surprised; after all, she hadn't even seen him off the carrier, when he'd left the Guadalcanal. So why would she show up now? Just because he knew that she'd been to see Bud and Harriet...

Harm sighed, casting an impatient eye around the confining walls of his apartment. He was full of a nervous energy he knew she was the cause of. He forced himself to focus on the matter at hand, tried to evaluate what exactly he was feeling at the moment.

Anger - at her behaviour.

Dejection - that she would cast him aside so easily.

Sadness - that they had come to this.

Irritation - that they had let it come to this, that she had let it come to this.

Anger - at her behaviour.

He sighed again, knowing his thoughts were running in circles as they had been this last hour at least. But he was not going to be the first one to cave here. He refused to be. She was being stubborn and proud and unreasonable.

But she was trying to deal with a broken engagement, a canceled wedding, him turning her away because Renee had showed up at his apartment. She'd taken an assignment that was pretty much a step backwards in her career, and Harm knew how much she valued her career, how important it was to her. He told himself he should overcome his pride, put aside his battered ego and go talk to her.

The truth as that he still wanted her with the same want that had driven him to the Guadalcanal in the first place. And he'd sensed it then, when he'd cornered her, that she wasn't really dealing with Mic leaving her. Being on a carrier was probably distraction enough for her to stuff all her turmoil and emotions under the mattress and ignore the bulge. Now that she was back home, in familiar surroundings, forced to face all the holes and empty spaces left by Mic's departure - especially after the events in Aceh - she was probably in need of a friend. A good friend. Even if his intentions towards her had crossed the line of friendship some months ago...

Harm stood up. He would face this, and he would make her stop hiding and face it too.

And that singular intent is what drove him to Mac's apartment, where he found himself thirty-two minutes later, watching her with a wary, concerned eye. She watched him back equally wary, though significantly less concerned.

"How was your trip back?" He asked, feeling hesitant and awkward.

"Fine." She replied. Even that one innocuous word held a hint of challenge, the way Mac said it.

He bit back a sigh. "That's good." He said, holding on to his patience with a firm grip. "Settling back in?"

"Just fine," She replied in that same tone.

"I'm glad you're safe, Mac, with what happened in Aceh-"

She sighed, suddenly looking tired and worn and all hollowed out. It made him forget what he was trying to say.

"Harm," She rubbed a hand over her eyes. "I appreciate you checking in on me but I'm really not in the mood."

It broke his heart to see her look like that. As was usually the case when confronted with her pain, he took steps to wrestle her free of it.

"Mac, you can't just keep ignoring everything, repressing it. You have to talk about it."

"Alright," She said, moving towards her front door. "You can go now. Let me show you out."

"Hold on," He stopped her progress, moving to stand in front of her, both hands on her shoulders. "Stop being so stubborn. Forget everything else. Just talk to me."

She pulled free from his grasp, eyes flashing with anger and impatience. "I will not talk. I don't want to talk to you."

"Why are you doing this?" He asked, exasperated. "A lot has happened to you and-"

"Why are you forcing the issue?" She crossed her arms defensively, chin thrust out in defiance.

It took him a moment to contemplate if he was brave enough to broach this issue with her now, when she looked about ready to physically throw him out.

He decided that he was.

"Do you remember what you told me that night on the admiral's porch?" He rushed on before she could give the acerbic answer that was so obviously on the tip of her tongue. "You told me that my lifeline could become my noose, that maybe I needed to let go. You also told me that I was running away."

"Harm..."

"But you were the one who was running, the entire time. You-"

"Don't say it." She warned.

"You ran to Mic."

Her entire demeanour transformed from one of defiant protest to indignant anger. "You said you expected me to wait as long as it takes, Harm! What is that supposed to mean? That I was just supposed to sit by while you, what? Sowed your wild oats?" She scoffed, but he could see every insecurity plain as if she was wearing them on her sleeve. It was an emboldening revelation. "Had your fun with me patiently waiting in the wings," She continued, "Knitting you a quilt?"

"It wasn't like that." He protested, her words suddenly registering through the haze of his momentary epiphany.

"That's exactly what it was like."

He wiped a hand over his face in impatience. "I was confused." He again found himself defending. "You blind-sided me."

"You weren't confused. You knew exactly what you wanted. It just wasn't me," She looked away, her momentum lost, her voice losing its strength as well. "Not yet."

"Mac," His tone was as near scolding as he dared let it go. She was veering him way off topic, and he had to stop letting her do that. "Stop manipulating this conversation. You are the one who's running now, too. You ran to the Guadalcanal-"

"Because I needed you, but you have a girlfriend," Her honesty was gutting.

"We ended it." He declared, relieved to have the upper hand again.

"You..." She stared at him in shock. "I..." she wasn't expecting it, he knew, and that was telling of how he must have come across when he went to talk to her on the Guadalcanal.

"We ended it when I came back from the Guadalcanal. Well," He amended, "A little bit after I came back. At first I was too angry with you."

"You were angry with me." It was more a statement, less a question, but held another challenge, nonetheless.

"You didn't see me off, when I left the carrier." It sounded unexpectedly petulant when he voiced the thought out loud.

"I needed space." She fell back on her tried and true line.

"Why did you need space?" He asked, taking a step closer to her.

"Harm!" She exclaimed. "We've been through this!"

"We have not been through anything. That's the problem here. Now tell me: why did you need space, Mac." He pressed

"Because I don't want to talk to you." Defiance re-asserted itself.

"Mac," He was getting desperate here. "You were coming to talk to me, and then next thing I know you're going TAD. I wasn't choosing Renee over you."

"I never said you were."

"But you acted like that's what I was doing." He waited for a response from her, but none was forthcoming. "Mac, you were right, on the Guadalcanal. I was hedging my bets. But you deserved more from me than that."

She glanced at him, and he saw that flicker of ... something in her eyes. Hurt? Resignation?

"Her father had just died." She said, before he could process her expression. "You could hardly break up with her."

"Mac, I was in DC, she was in Minnesota. She hadn't called me in days, I hadn't called her." He gave a wry smile. "I think she was already rekindling her romance with her mortician friend." Actually, he was pretty sure she was. At Mac's surprised expression, he elaborated: "They were old high school sweethearts. And I wasn't the most supportive you know. I was too busy worrying about you."

She looked away.

"Mac, it's your turn." He reached out to take her hand, but she pulled away. "You need to let go. I already have. I've been chasing you half way around the world. Give me something to work with."

"I can't." She whispered, refusing to look at him.

"Why not?" He replied, his voice suddenly hoarse, the weight of a looming rejection crushing his heart..

Tears fell from her eyes. "I can't do it again."

He didn't know what to say. All he could do was watch her as the dam broke.

"It hurt too much. I ... I let myself trust him, and he left."

"Mac-"

"And you said better than six months into the marriage." She was really crying now, big tears that dripped down her cheeks. "I can't do it again. I don't want to ... I can't feel like that again."

He stared at her, his own eyes tearing up. He moved right up to her and hugged her. He held her as she cried, wondering if she'd let herself deal with all this at all, or if she'd been running from her feelings since that night she left his apartment.

"I'm sorry," He said, not knowing what else to say.

"Not your fault," She mumbled through her tears, clenching his shirt in her fists.

"I'm still sorry."

He waited for her to vent her grief, remembering the revelation he'd had just moments ago. How much of her behaviour was driven by the need to protect her heart? And was she crying with such abandon for Mic, or for something else altogether?

"Not everyone leaves, you know," He whispered into her hair. He waited a beat before taking another risk. "I'm still here."

"Harm," Her tone held warning, regret. She pulled away from him. A veil of discomfort cloaked her, making her look anywhere but at him. "I can't." She wiped away her remaining tears with the back of her hand. Her voice trembled.

"I understand." He told her.

Her eyes flew to his in surprise. "You do?" She didn't believe it.

"I'm not going to push you into something you're not ready for." He said this with perhaps too much emphasis, because a wry smile teased the corner of her mouth. She studied him for long moments, eyebrow arched, before a sudden spark of humour lit her still-red eyes.

"So you'll wait in the wings?" She was teasing, but he quickly grabbed the proffered olive branch, playing along with whatever opportunity she gave him.

"While you sow your wild oats," He smiled, determined to stick to this course. He knew in a deep part of his heart that she was worth everything he was, everything he could be. And he knew equally that he was worth the same to her, if she'd only let herself see it. "I'll knit a quilt to keep busy."

She laughed, a light laugh still steeped in sadness, watching him with a deep affection he hadn't been able to understand until that night on the admiral's porch. He wasn't about to take it for granted again.

"Sarah, I really wasn't ready to face this, that night in Sydney."

Her eyes clouded with regret, with worry.

"But I am now, I promise you." He waited for her worry to lift, but it remained in place, steadfast. "A wise woman told me that I needed to let go, and it took some hours drifting around the Atlantic without a lifeline for me to see that she was right."

"You had a lifeline," She said, stepping towards him. She put a hesitant hand on his arm, gently rubbing back and forth. "You had me."

Relief coursed through him. He could say nothing in response, remembering how lost he'd felt among those towering, frigid waves. His throat clogged at the memories, so he did the one thing he wasn't brave enough to admit he'd needed until that night: he pulled Mac into a tight hug, holding her close.

"Just let me," He whispered, not wanting her to move away from him. "I..."

"It's okay," She soothed, "You don't have to explain."

Leave it to her to get the last word in. He smiled. "You trying to tell me something?"

"Sometimes," She said with her arms wound around his waist, her breath warm through his shirt, "Sometimes we aren't ready to talk, or we find it hard to explain, and all we really need is a hug, and that's okay." Her voice lilted in that teasing way of hers. "For future reference."

"Duly noted." He smiled again at her gentle reprimand, even though he didn't think he'd been wrong in getting her to talk this all out. Or at least some of it. But he was smart enough to know that now was not the time to tell her any of that. He held his silence and settled into her comforting embrace, forcing himself not to think too much about what would happen next, what she would do, where they would go with this. He was content with holding her, simply happy that she was coming back to him

...end.


End file.
